Delicious
by stormsandsins
Summary: Champagne is as delicious in the mouth as it is... well... elsewhere.


**DELICIOUS**

"This is your idea of a stress reliever?" Blair asked, noting the imperious, hidden _Are you deranged?_ in her voice. "Alcohol?" Curling her nose in distaste, she rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. Chuck Bass would never change.

"You won't have to drink a drop if you don't want to," Chuck drawled, sliding a finger down the neck of an uncorked bottle. The suggestive, seductive touch tingled through her, and Blair pressed her crossed legs even closer together as her treacherous body bloomed for him. She pretended to return her attention to her study notes for the important test the next day. Chuck's speculative eyes nevertheless scorched through her. "Statistics reveal that cramming the night before a test yields unfavourable results," he commented mildly – goading her, she knew.

What did he think she was? A perpetual failer? Those days were over. "I studied all week," she bristled.

Chuck nodded. "Then you know the material. You need to take your mind off of tomorrow," he said in a commanding tone.

Still staring at a point on her carefully scribbled page, Blair rolled her eyes. "Easy for you to say," she mumbled under her breath. He didn't have fast-approaching tests to worry about anymore, didn't have to worry about forgetting that one answer he hadn't studied quite as well as the others because he'd deemed it unimportant. Didn't have to fret about choking on that particular question, or even one he had studied so well he knew it by heart – _now_.

Yet even as she said the words aloud, she knew she wasn't being fair to him. Chuck did have to worry about these things and more, in real-life situations, as he helmed a multi-billion dollar company his father had heaped on him upon his death. At eighteen, Chuck's every day was a series of stressful moments trying to appear every bit the professionally minded Bass heir he'd never cared to appear before. So, really, she shouldn't talk. And thank God he didn't appear to have heard.

"Sorry," she said suddenly, snapping her notebook shut on her – gulp – stress. "You're right. I do. You were saying?"

Chuck's lips stretched into a slow grin, eyes crinkling and softening his expression. Pushing from the mantel with a clear bottle in hand – champagne, she noted – he stalked over to the couch and took a quick swig as he sat. Then his mouth was on hers, fizzy liquor touching her tongue as he tugged the hem of her prim dress up her hips and then higher. Finally he had her naked and stretched out beneath him – she had no recollection of him pushing her to her back – and she hissed as cool liquid streamed between her breasts. Chuck's mouth trailed down, tongue hot over her skin, and she arched into his touch as he drank, leaving such a deliciously aching need for more warmth behind that she was surprised – and yet not – at how quickly he aroused her.

He wasn't done. Laving more attention to her breasts after he'd poured another shot onto her, one hand swept down under the lace of her panties, eliciting a moan as he did so. His fingers were light at first, becoming more insistent as her response intensified. Distantly she was aware of her mewls as his fingers brushed and stroked and entered her shallowly – never enough. With a strained grunt he bit her lip even as she sucked the champagne from his, then tore away and took his bottle with him as he knelt between her parted thighs.

She felt the loss keenly, wanting more. "Please," she breathed, reaching for him. yet still he remained where he was, and she only understood why when cool champagne ran over both her thighs and their burning juncture.

Next moment his mouth was on a thigh, and she trembled as he licked and kissed first one, then the other, a smile on his face as he watched her writhe beneath his tickling touch.

"God, you know that kills me," she giggled as she watched his smug assault on her way-too-sensitive senses.

"Should've known I'd exploit your weakness," he mumbled, nipping her jumpy skin.

"Not like I had a choice," she gasped laughingly before hissing in a breath. "Oh, God. _Chuck…_"

The small portion of her brain that was still working registered that she'd never drink champagne without thinking of… _mm…_

"Don't stop."

Not when the firm tip of his tongue slid hot and invasive and tender into her core. Blair fisted his hair with both hands, shamelessly locking him in place and wanting _more_. He knew exactly how to please her, knew all her pressure points, listened and drank of her greedily.

"More," she gasped, and the word had him instantly scrambling to tear his clothing away. He was soon on her, in her, and kissing her, and she tasted herself and traces of the tantalising champagne on his lips as he filled her. She broke off on a silent cry, reveling in the way he completed her. Blair moved – _more_ – underneath him as he did, his pants stirring her hair. She clutched him to her, nails digging in of their own accord – _God, yes_ – and finally she climaxed, riding a wave of pleasure that he soon joined, that left them gasping and spent and utterly boneless.

And sticky.

"Mm, no, stay…" Blair moaned when he sluggishly pulled off her.

But he tugged her off the ruined couch, eyeing it disinterestedly – though she knew there'd be an urgent phone call first thing tomorrow to replace it – and, grumbling, she followed him wherever he would take her.

The shower, it turned out.

They did eventually make it out, but considering he'd brought more champagne… it was a while before they did.


End file.
